Scene #10: Office Hours 1 -- Homura

Owner	Pose
Kyouka Inai	It's like, 4pm on a Thursday. Possibly the worst day of the school week, because it's almost Friday, but it isn't actually Friday yet and all you can think about is how you wish it was Friday and not Thursday. Comic strip writers like to claim Monday is the worst but they're full of shit. It's clearly Thursday. Anyway, it's not just kids who think Thursday blows. Kyouka Inai also feels this way. That's probably why she's sitting at her desk, with the chair tilted back at a dangerous ankle and one shoe up on the corner. She has the large window behind her open, a desk fan pointed towards it and running. You might question this arrangement, because it seems rather silly considering the school has air conditioning and its perfectly comfortable. But the reason becomes obvious when you take into account the fact that she has a lit cigarette in her hand, hovering over an ashtray on the corner of the desk, the smoke being blown largely, safely out the window. She's not even actually smoking the thing, like not really. She's more just kind of staring out the window at the sunlit schoolyard and all the kids milling about and doing whatever it is kids do at this time of day when classes are actually over. Clubs or something, probably, study groups. She's not supposed to have any more visitors today.
Homura Akemi	Was the door open? Maybe it had been. Or maybe the hinges had been oiled. Either way one moment there's blissful solitude and a distinct lack of students of the magical or other kind and the next there's a calm, almost too calm voice speaking a name in a cool, disinterested tone. "Kyouka Inai." The phrasing was distinct to this individual, who was known to show habits of emotional distancing, though word among the faculty was that she was warmer towards other students than this might otherwise imply. Whatever her actual psychological profile might be one thing was certain: Homura Akemi could move as silent as death. Year upon year of physical exertion and refinement had led to this level of grace and economy of motion. Homura often didn't realize it herself. The Year 8 student stood in front of Kyouka, her purple eyes slightly lidded in a way that might lull the foolish into thinking her inattentive, when the truth was she was keenly aware of near everything that went on around her. Without moving from her place several steps past the doorway, and a few behind the chairs opposite the desk she continues. "I've heard around the campus," good plausible deniability here, "that you offer hand to hand defense and combat training." A short, concise statement. A short pause, but not long enough to allow polite response. "I require assistance in the area of grappling and defensive holds; preventing and escaping, to be precise." After these statements her eyes turn to Kyouka's cigarette, and then to the councilors face. Her eye's briefly narrow further, but afterwards her calm mask of indifference replaces itself.
Kyouka Inai	Kyouka jumps like, half a meter when the quiet, unemotional voice speaks her name. In the same motion, she's spun halfway in the desk chair to face the intruder, the cigarette has been stubbed out in the ash tray, the ash tray has been expertly flung into the (metal) trash can with somehow a minimum of noise, and the fan has been readjusted to point away from the window. This is all pointless but it's clearly too late to stop Homura from seeing what she was doing, but it all happens so fast it has the air of practice about it, and it seems to take a moment for Kyouka to realize she's even done it, because she looks at her own hand like, 'hey, what happened to my smoke'. Only then do her grey eyes flick upwards to take in the be-uniformed girl standing on the opposite side of the chairs. Despite that initial jump, she's still seated in the chair, now with one hand on the desk and one underneath it. In her lap? It's hard to tell. She studies Homura for a long moment in silence, letting it stretch as if waiting to see if the student is going to call her on her breach of the school's 'no smoking' policy. When that doesn't appear to be forthcoming, she lets out a brief exhale, then says, "Y'know, I ain't allowed to call it that? It's 'Practical Martial Arts for Self Defense' and its in the gym every wednesday at 3:30." She regards Homura again for a long moment of continued silence, before setting both feet on the floor and turning her chair to directly face the desk, leaning her elbows on it, both hands now visible, clasped in front of her. "Why, has someone been bothering you Miss...?" There's an exaggerated pause, waiting for a name. Her expression is suspiciously deadpan.
Homura Akemi	The hat trick with the cigarette at least attests to Kyouka's ability to train her reflexes. If Homura had thrown a balled up piece of paper at her she expects she'd have found it batted away with equal ease. Assuming Kyouka became aware of her presence before it landed. "I've heard," she repeats after patiently listening to the standard and proper reply about naming conventions and doing her due diligence as far as student harassment is concerned, "that for the right students you might be able to offer advanced tutelage beyond the standard classes." And not in front of so many pairs of prying eyes, she would hope. "Akemi," she answers to the question about her name, offering her surname first to fit the offered honorific, "Homura Akemi. It isn't a student that's been bothering me. There was..." what did the Veiled reporters call it? Ah, right, "An earthquake. At the beach. I found myself caught by some ropes and was only able to escape when a passerby had a knife to help extract me." She looks Kyouka right in the eyes, purple finding gray in a knowing much but revealing little gaze that offers no escape save looking away and no signs of flinching or weakness of it's own. "These 'earthquakes' are getting more frequent than I am comfortable with. I need practice and techniques, and intuition tells me you're someone I can trust not to lead me into mistakes or a false sense of security." Her tone is dry and curt. For a student speaking to faculty her direct gaze might be considered impudent. A fool would be offended. A warrior might respect it.
Kyouka Inai	Kyouka looks back into those purple eyes, and the grey of her own which moments before had been ashen seems suddenly more like steel, hard and implacable. At the same time, however, her expression remains carefully neutral, other than the slow quirk of one rather well-plucked red eyebrow as Homura tells her tale, such as it is. "You know," She says suddenly, breaking the held gaze and leaning back in her chair, which is the kind that kinda rocks and swivels, so she's reclining at an angle, "It's polite to address faculty as '-sensei', Akemi-san." Her tone, rather than being strict or offended, holds a note of amusement, as if this isn't something she actually expects. Or maybe it is, but she finds the expectation somewhat ridiculous. "And I hate to break this to ya, but y'know grappling training isn't going to help you break free from ropes. However..." Both brows raised now, a slightly crooked smile revealing one just-slightly-too-sharp canine behind lips a color that matches her hair, "You can never be too careful. In my experience, speakin' as a guide for the youth and all, knowin' how to properly break a hold... or the one doing the holding... is somethin' any self-respecting young lady ought to know in these times we live in." A shake of her head. "Gettin' bad out there, you ain't wrong about that. So yeah. Might be I can help you."
Homura Akemi	As Kyouka's eyes go steely Homura's somehow remain exactly the same. Direct. Clear. Observant. A little tired and worn, despite her otherwise clearly youthful features. It's stranger than if she had granted a look of suspicion, and far stranger than if she'd acted surprised. When the held look is broken first by the counselor in the manner of casual strength, a lack of a need to consider the look a challenge, Homura too looks away, casting her gaze instead towards and through the opened window the fan is aimed towards. "Kyouka Inai-sensei." In her even tone with an equal lack of reverence and irreverence it sounds even more ridiculous than the expectation had been. "It might prevent me from needing to break free from ropes, and you might know other techniques that are more suited to that more dangerous situation." Homura does not like being grappled. She likes being physically bound even less. Kyouka probably wouldn't know it, but as a combatant it was her greatest weakness, and by a very wide margin. Homura Akemi could handle a gun barrel pressed against her temple more easily than she could handle a rope, a vine, or a ribbon wrapped around one wrist held by it's user, or an arm twisted behind her back. Or worse, a choke hold. "Ahh," she sounds in an affirmative particle, "these streets are getting more and more dangerous every day. If the Academy isn't careful someone might notice the number of worrying incidents it's students are increasingly involved in." That... is not strictly true. Not right now. In a month though, the memory of Homura's words might sound prophetic in hindsight. "I would appreciate your help," the dark-haired teenager states, briefly looking from the window back to Kyouka, acknowledging her direct admission and potential gratitude. Some time ago, she might not have been able to ask for, or accept help. She might not have been able to forgive herself for so much as considering it necessary. "I am not opposed to taking general instruction on Wednesdays, or letting others like myself know of your..." She almost says 'services' but thinks better of it; she's trying to offer the faculty member some potential recompense for the help she's seeking, but the word doesn't seem proper; it's too direct. "Counseling." is what she finally decides on, a moment later.
Kyouka Inai	If Kyouka learns anything from the moment of shared gaze, she doesn't speak to it, but perhaps files it away for future reference. Instead, she merely lifts her shoulders in a mild shrug. "Y'know what they say. An ounce of prevention is worth a gallon of.. " she pauses, clearly having forgotten the rest of the already-mangled saying, "like.. being an idiot." She finishes, looking satisfied. Then she goes on, leaning forward slightly on her elbows on the desk, "You don't need to worry about what the Academy does or doesn't want people knowing." She advises, head tilting slightly to one side. "That's for the Headmistress and her people to worry about. All you need to worry about..." She pauses again, this time to lean back and pull open a drawer on her desk and rifle through it. A moment later she comes up with a business card. The front has her name, Radiant Heart Academy's logo and address, and her office phone number nearly embossed on it. On the back she scribbles with a pen grabbed from the same drawer, then tosses it across the desk with an expert flick of her hand. She's written 'secret magic fite club' on the back, and underneath, 'Wednesday, 4:30pm'.' "That's your official invite. Show it at the door. But leave the advertising to me, huh?" She leans back in her chair again. "No offense, but I don't know you... yet. And I like to curate my students. But.." A hesitation, then, "If you see someone you think really needs it, send 'em my way, I guess. Just.. not all willy-nilly, yeah? I got limited hours in the day and there's new kids cropping up like weeds." The kind of 'new kids' she's referring to here are obvious by implication.
Homura Akemi	An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Kyouka doesn't get the saying right but the meaning is deeply known to Homura. Her entire existence is like trying to apply a pound of prevention to a problem that requires a planetary mass of cure. "That's the problem. No matter how hard anyone tries, they'll always have their moment of being an idiot." How many girls had rued the day they had made one choice or another. How many of those singular moments of perfect regret had she directly beheld herself? Any number of these flash before her eyes, or rather in the back of her mind, but the stoic expression on her face doesn't change an inch to show it. Homura steps forward and retrieves the card. Upon seeing the addendum written on it she briefly looks up to Kyouka and a soft exhale through her nose shows her recognition of the overly casual humor amid the quiet tension her own demeanor can unintentionally create. "I won't try to step on your toes. If your time is limited, I won't send any edge cases your direction." She studies the woman for a moment as she hesitates. "Ah. Altruistic counseling?" For the first time the student casts her eyes around the rest of the room. At the decorations and books at the... lack of distinctively displayed diploma with an embellished frame. "You," he looks down at the card with it's secret acknowledgment, and then up to Kyouka once more, "...care." Her tone is still even, but not perfectly like before. There's faint surprise. At the realization, yes. But also at her own... lack of reproach in it. "I would warn you that that kind of sentimentality will only lead you deeper into trouble," her head leans slightly to the side, "but you give me the sense that you should already know better." Now her eyes do narrow. It could look like suspicion. It's not; it's a more careful examination of what's in front of her, and a reevaluation. That kind of cynicism that is so near and dear to her own heart. This strange councilor, this Kyouka Inai, is she, too, been through those old, hard learned truths and emerged out the other side?
Kyouka Inai	"Don't lecture me, kid." Kyouka says it off-handedly, with a wave of one hand, as if dismissing accusations of 'caring' and warnings of sentimentality leading to doom. The words have a sense of fatigue to them though, as if it's not the lecture itself she's dismissing but the need for it. Preaching to the choir, perhaps, even if it's phrased as a rebuke. "That's my job, and I ain't about to let you take it just because you think I'm too soft for it. At least wait until next Wednesday before you make that accusation, huh?" A heaved sigh, as if she recognizes the need to put her money where her mouth is before someone like Homura understands her position, but finds it all pretty tiresome. "I care exactly as much as I choose to, and not an ounce more. And whether I care depends strongly on exactly who we're talking about caring for." Faintly narrowed eyes. "Like I said.. I prefer to /curate./" Emphasis on the word, as if Homura might have missed it the first time. "I'm not worried about stepping on toes. I'm worried about my sanity if I end up needing to babysit every over-ambitious kid in the city." The poster on the wall seems to mock her, as if silently reminding her that that's literally her job- at least for students at the school. At least for the ones the school decides need her attention. "Now if that's all, I got work to do, alright?" Funny, because it sure didn't look like she was 'working' when Homura entered. But now she's making 'shoo shoo' motions with her hand. "Nice meeting you Akemi-san. I look forward to evaluating your skills at the next meeting. Now run along and play." A bland, rehearsed smile. "Just watch out for ropes, yeah?"